Crystal (20 page)

Feeling thoroughly pissed off, Crystal put on the final dress – a ballerina-style number with a tight white bodice and a tulle skirt with lots of layers.

‘That’s it!’ Belle squealed as Crystal emerged from the fitting room. She clapped in delight, a huge smile replacing her earlier frown. ‘You can wear flat ballet pumps with ribbons. It’s perfect. And I can get the stylist to customise the dresses, dye them different colours, and sew pearls and sequins on to the skirts. But you can’t have a black one, Crystal!’

Seeing her excitement a wave of guilt hit Crystal. She couldn’t remain silent any longer. She had to warn Belle
about Max, let her know the kind of man he really was and what he was capable of. There was no way Crystal could stand by and let Belle marry him and say nothing. She couldn’t put it off any longer; it would have to be tonight. And Crystal would just have to live with the consequences . . .

‘Are we done then?’ she asked, ‘because Tahlia and I want to take you out for a drink.’

‘Okay,’ said Belle happily, all sweetness and light now that she’d found the dresses. ’Let’s go to Sketch.’

While Belle was relaying her instructions to the assistant, Tahlia whispered to Crystal, ‘I really don’t want to go out for a drink with her. She’s been doing my head in all afternoon.’

‘Please Tahlia, I’ve got to tell her about Max. I’ve been in denial about it. I kept thinking and hoping that the wedding would never happen, but all of this makes it so real and I can’t stand by and let her marry that bastard.’

‘Are you sure about this?’ Tahlia said. ‘She’ll go mad’.

‘Yes,’ Crystal said determinedly, ‘I’ve been putting it off for way too long.’

‘Cheers, babes,’ Belle said, clinking her glass of pink Laurent Perrier champagne against theirs. ‘I’m so pleased we found that dress. I can’t wait to tell Max.’

Crystal looked at Tahlia, who rolled her eyes, then she took a deep breath. ‘Belle, I really need to talk to you about Max. I should have done it ages ago.’ Crystal stared intently at Belle, but she appeared not to have heard her. Instead she was standing up and waving.

Crystal turned round and her heart plummeted as she saw Max walking towards their table.

‘I thought Max was in Ibiza?’ Tahlia asked.

‘He flew back this morning. Maxy, babe, guess what? I’ve found the bridesmaids’ dresses!’ Belle sprung up from her chair and threw her arms around Max. Crystal and Tahlia exchanged appalled glances. Crystal forced herself to look civil as Max come over to her chair and kissed her on each cheek.

‘Long time no see, Crystal, how are you?’

‘Good, thanks,’ Crystal replied, getting a blast of his aftershave, reminding her of things she would rather forget.

He kissed Tahlia then sat down opposite Crystal and smiled at her knowingly. Belle launched into a detailed rundown of how the wedding plans were going. When she had finally run out of steam after updating Max on the food, invitations, flowers and the music, Max said, ‘I’m so glad that you two are bridesmaids. It means a lot to Belle and me.’ Then he turned to Belle and said, ‘We’ll have to buy them something lovely, won’t we, babe? Something inscribed, so they can always remember our special day. And Belle says you’ve got a new boyfriend, Crystal. What’s he called again?’

‘Jake,’ Crystal muttered, feeling worse and worse.

‘That’s it. Jake will have to come too, won’t he, Belle?’

‘Yes, he’s already on the list.’

‘Well, I look forward to meeting him, Crystal,’ Max said, lighting a cigarette. ‘He must be special. You haven’t been out with anyone for ages, have you?’

Crystal and Tahlia drained their glasses, both desperate to get out of the bar.

‘We’ve got to go,’ Tahlia said, picking up her bag and getting ready to leave.

‘Really?’ Max sounded surprised. ‘I thought we might all go for dinner.’

‘No, no, you two hardly ever get to spend time together.’ Both girls quickly got up and said their goodbyes before Max could say anything else.

‘Fucking hell,’ Crystal exclaimed as they waited for a taxi. ‘It was like he knew what I was going to say!’

‘Don’t worry, Crystal, you can do it another time.’

But over the next couple of days Crystal didn’t get chance. Max stayed in London and every day came to the studio to watch the group rehearsing. He didn’t let Belle out of his sight. The only comfort for Crystal was that he’d just bought a club in Ibiza and would be flying out there at the end of the week and was likely to stay there for at least three months.

But it left her feeling on edge. Tahlia could see how tense she was. ‘Come on, Crystal,’ she told her, ‘don’t let him get to you. Jake’s back tomorrow night; don’t let Max spoil things for you.’

It was easier said than done. At least they had a day off on Wednesday which meant she didn’t have to see Max. Instead she decided to do a bit of retailing. First stop was Agent Provocateur for some new lingerie. She chose a sheer black and pink bra with a matching string; she wanted to feel extra sexy tonight. Then she nipped into Miss Selfridge and bought a black mini skirt. (She must already have about ten black mini skirts, but as far as she was concerned you could never have too many.) Then she dropped into Jez’s salon and had a pedicure, wanting her feet to look their best in her new Christian Louboutin metallic heels – you could never have too many pairs of designer shoes either . . .

‘Agent Provocateur?’ Jez said, spotting the distinctive pink bag. ‘Someone’s in for a saucy surprise tonight.’

‘Maybe,’ Crystal replied coyly.

‘Oh, come on, darling, we all know you don’t buy Agent Provocateur underwear for any other reason than to have it deliciously peeled from your body.’

‘Maybe,’ Crystal repeated, then blew Jez a kiss and started walking out of the salon.

‘I demand to know all the details. I’m your hairdresser; you have to tell me everything, it’s in the contract!’ Jez called out after her.

That night Crystal was on a mission to seduce Jake. He had offered to cook dinner at his flat. Crystal’s culinary expertise only stretched to spag bol and toast so she was impressed to find him hard at work in the kitchen making linguine puttanesca.

At first they were slightly awkward with each other. Crystal was anxious not to have a repeat performance of last time. She wanted to banish the memory of her tears. She had tonight all mapped out – they’d kiss, tear each other’s clothes off and then have the most mind-blowing shag . . . She didn’t
want dinner – no matter how delicious – she wanted Jake. But he seemed perfectly happy to cook, telling her about the shoot, asking her what she’d been up to. Crystal sat at the kitchen table, sipping wine and wondering how to make the first move. Maybe he was being so cool because of what had happened.

‘This is a great kitchen,’ she said looking at the state-of-the-art appliances, the black marble worktops, expensive-looking bespoke wooden cabinets, and the stone floor.

‘I suppose so. We’d just finished doing it up when Eve left me,’ he said abruptly.
Bollocks!
thought Crystal,
this conversation wasn’t going to get him in the mood, was it?

She drained her glass. Jake poured her another. At this rate she’d be pissed.

‘Do you want to try the sauce? Let me know if it’s spicy enough for you.’ Jake held the spoon to her mouth and Crystal tasted it. It was definitely spicy enough for her, but she wasn’t interested in the sauce at this precise moment.

‘You’ve got some there,’ Jake said, pointing at her mouth.

Crystal rubbed at her mouth.

‘Still there,’ Jake told her, bending down to kiss her. And this time it wasn’t a casual, take-me-or-leave-me-kiss, it was a I-want-you-and-I-want-you-right-now kiss. Dinner was forgotten as Jake picked Crystal up and carried her into the bedroom.

‘Hungry?’ Jake asked several hours later as they lay in bed together, arms and legs entwined.

‘Hmm,’ Crystal couldn’t resist kissing him again.

‘Dinner’s ruined but I could make you a peanut butter sandwich,’ Jake said, getting out of bed. Crystal nodded, in a blissful post-sex daze. All memories of her tears had been erased in their passionate, intense lovemaking. It had felt so right and this time, with every kiss, every caress, it felt like she was freeing herself from Max.

He returned from the kitchen with a plate piled with sandwiches and some more wine. Crystal thought she had
never seen a man with such a beautiful body; everything was perfect – smooth, tanned skin, muscular body, just the right amount of body hair . . . and –

‘Sorry it’s only this. I had wanted to impress you with my cooking,’ Jake said.

‘You’ve impressed me with far more important things,’ Crystal said, taking a look at his perfectly sized cock and wondering if there was any chance of seconds. And she didn’t mean the peanut butter sandwiches . . .

‘Well?’ Jez said two days later as she dropped by at the salon to have her hair washed and blow dried for an interview with a teen mag.

‘Very good,’ Crystal answered;
fucking fantastic more like
, she thought. She and Jake had spent the whole of Thursday together, only getting out of bed at six in the evening to go for a Thai meal, but they’d even cut that short when desire drove them back to bed once more.

‘Is that the best you can do?’ Jez said, pretending to be in a huff. ‘I was expecting size details, positions, a complete rundown.’

‘Okay, I’d say eight, lots, never had such amazing sex before. Will that do?’

‘Eight?’ Jez said dreamily. ‘I could tell just by looking at him.’

‘But it’s not just the length, the width is perfect,’ Crystal said cheekily. ‘No one wants a party sausage inside them.’

‘You’re one lucky girl, Crystal; you’ve found the Holy Grail of cocks!’ Jez exclaimed.

‘I really, really like him, Jez,’ Crystal answered, suddenly serious. ‘I can’t stop thinking about him. I’ve only been away from him for a couple of hours and I really miss him.’

‘Oh, my God, you’re in love! I’m seeing a winter wedding. You in white fur (fake, of course), diamonds in your hair (real, of course), him in a midnight blue suit to bring out the colour of his stunning eyes. Then you’ll honeymoon on a private island in the Caribbean, return to your new house in
Notting Hill and retreat to your country estate in Oxfordshire at weekends. A year later you’ll have a beautiful baby girl and a chocolate-brown Labrador. You’ll be top of the charts, he’ll win a Pulitzer for his photographs – or whatever prize you win for photography – then you’ll adopt a poor little AIDS orphan from Africa and set up your own organic wine label.’

Crystal laughed. ‘You’ve been reading way too many
OK!
magazines, darling.’ But as fantasies went, it was a pretty good one.

For the next two weeks Crystal spent every night with Jake. She was in that delicious loved-up state where he was all she could think about. She just wanted to be with him whenever she could. She pushed her worries about Belle to the back of her mind; she’d tell her everything as soon as Max was safely out of the way in Ibiza. And it was easy to forget when she was with Jake.

When she first met him she had been worried that he might think she was superficial, just another girl band singer, but he soon dispelled her fears when one night over dinner he revealed that he had bought her first album and had been listening to it non-stop while he was working.

‘I thought it wasn’t your kind of music,’ Crystal teased, secretly pleased that he’d made the effort.

‘Well, it isn’t usually but it grew on me. I think you’re really talented, Crystal.’

‘So does that mean you’ll work with us again?’

‘Yeah, so long as you keep that diva pain in the arse away from me.’ Jake rubbed his eyebrow where Belle’s shoe had hit him. ‘And so long as I get to see plenty of your tattoo.’

‘For your eyes only, darling . . . So you don’t hate working with bands then? I got the impression you thought there were more important things you should be doing.’

‘Shit, no, I love my work and I want to work with different people. Sure, I like doing the serious stuff but I need the music work as well.’

Crystal was relieved. Most of the other men she’d been out
with hadn’t exactly been renowned for their minds and it hadn’t mattered so much to her that those relationships had never really progressed beyond the bedroom. But Jake was different – he was intelligent, he was thoughtful, and she wanted him to see her as an equal, not a bimbo pop tart.

‘Shit, I’d totally forgotten I was supposed to be meeting my parents for lunch today,’ Jake exclaimed, leaping out of bed. It was midday on Saturday and he and Crystal were lying in bed together
again.
‘Come with me,’ he said impulsively.

‘Really?’ Half of Crystal thought,
Great, that must mean he likes me if he wants me to meet his parents
; the other thought of her own dysfunctional background and thought she would rather keep well away.

‘Please? I promise we won’t be there for long. And then we can do something you want to do – maybe meet up with your friends at the Soho Hotel.’

‘Okay,’ Crystal said, pulling him back on to the bed with her, ‘on one condition.’ She ran her hands over his naked body and Jake got the idea.

‘Whatever you say.’

As a result they were even later in meeting his parents and Crystal had no time to go home and change into something more suitable. She was forced to wear the previous night’s outfit – a strapless leopard-print Wheels & Dollbaby low-cut top, a tiny black mini skirt and red Gina heels, an outfit chosen entirely for its fuck-me qualities. It certainly did not say meet the parents. Crystal muttered about it in the taxi. ‘Oh, don’t worry, my parents don’t bother with things like that,’ Jake said.

I suppose his mum
is
Swedish
, Crystal tried to reassure herself.
Aren’t Swedes supposed to be laid back? She’ll probably be wearing Birkenstocks and jeans.
Her reassurance was short-lived, though, when the taxi dropped them outside Claridge’s.

‘We’re going here?’ she demanded. This venue didn’t scream out laid-back Swede to her.

Jake sighed. ‘Yes, my mother always has lunch here when
she’s in town.’ As they walked into the vast, marble-floored lobby, Crystal suddenly felt awkward and seriously under-dressed.